


thiamin mononitrate and monosodium glutamate

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Test Kitchen AU, it's kind of a full cast but everyone's in the background somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: The tale was that when you turned eighteen, the first words your soulmate spoke to you would appear on your forearm.Daisy's happened to be a giant block of ingredients. How she's ever going to find someone who'll say those exact words to her, she has no idea.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 21
Kudos: 159





	thiamin mononitrate and monosodium glutamate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FourOhFour_Error](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourOhFour_Error/gifts).



> from the prompt "sit still, for the love of god" and "wait wait wait, say all that again?". thanks for the prompt, I hope you like it!

The tale was that when you turned eighteen, the first words your soulmate spoke to you would appear on your forearm. 

Daisy Johnson didn't know much about her parents other than they'd given her their last name, but her foster father never tired of telling her the story of how he'd met his wife. Phil Coulson, still sharp in a suit at forty and even sharper in games of wit, had, at his tender coming of age, been branded with the words  _ 'that's the worst looking tie I've ever seen' _ . "Let me tell you, I was  _ devastated _ ," he would say to her, always with the same horrified expression on his face. "If those were the first words they would say to me, there was no telling what else they would say!" 

"It was a bad tie," her foster mother would interject, her serene, almost-invisible smile a perfect foil to his exuberant attitude. Melinda May's forearm had, naturally, been an indignant response to the stinging remark:  _ 'hey! my mom got it for me!' _ . "I've never seen anything like it. Who decided that it would be a good idea to put disco balls on a tie? Ones that were lit with  _ strobe lights _ . They blinked, Daisy," she would say, faking a shudder. "He's lucky he was cute." 

Stories like her foster parents' were exactly the norm, it seemed: everywhere she looked, there were parents with extravagant success stories. Her best friend Jemma's parents had met over a shared look in the university library ("How he managed to combine a pickup line with the Dewey Decimal system  _ god knows _ ," Jemma muttered), her friend Bobbi's parents had come into each other during a chance meeting at the supermarket, Lincoln's at a football game and Mack's during an intercollegiate marching band competition. Every child was destined to have their own love story: all they had to do was wait until they were eighteen.

So when her eighteenth birthday rolled around, there was no one more excited than Daisy herself. It was almost surreal, counting down the minutes; the candles of her birthday cake still flickering in the darkness while she was surrounded by her friends and family. Most of them had gotten theirs already, and their letterings stood proudly on their arms while they eyed the clock. "You ready?" Bobbi asked her for what seemed like the fiftieth time, and the brunette shot her a glare before glueing her eyes back to the countdown they'd started four minutes ago. 

"I've been waiting for this moment since we learned about the words in school," she murmured, watching the seconds tick into the single digits. Still, a last-minute worm of doubt crawled into her mind: what if the words were a rejection? If they were a set of last words? What if they were words she didn't understand? Or, worse -- she didn't have any words at all? 

A light hand landed on her shoulder, and Daisy turned to see Melinda giving her the same calm smile she gave her daughter when she knew she was getting worked up into a tizzy. "They're your soulmate for a reason" was all she said, squeezing the shoulder. "No matter what the words say, you're still our daughter." 

_ "Three! Two! One!" _ A light tingling began sliding across her left forearm, almost as if someone had taken a tiny calligraphy brush and was painstakingly applying the words in cursive. Shoulders smushed against hips and waists as everyone crowded to peer at her exposed skin, the silence in the air thick as the words continued, its tension sagging into confusion when almost a minute had passed with no sign of stopping. 

"Monosodium glutamate?" Bobbi asked at the same time Jemma said, "Thiamin mononitrate?" 

"White cheddar cheese?" Mack asked, frowning at the squished text on Daisy's forearm. "Enriched flour and vegetable oil...Dais, do you have an  _ ingredient list _ as your soulmate words?" She turned her wrist, the whole room letting out a collective whistle when they saw the block of text wrapped around half of her forearm. "What are these ingredients even  _ for _ ?" 

All Daisy could do was stare at the words, stunned. Of all of the things she could've imagined, this probably fell somewhere between perfectly acceptable and the worst. Because while at least she could understand most of the words on her arm (and those she didn't she had friends for), the chances that anyone would say them in that specific order were slim to none. Knowing her, she would probably find her soulmate as they were reciting some sort of villainous monologue to her. Or she'd never find her soulmate at all. And given that the former was a fairly dangerous prospect, she'd take the latter if it meant saving the world. 

Of course hers had to be complex, Daisy lamented. After all, the wonderous stories from her childhood had to be balanced out  _ somehow _ .

* * *

Despite the utterly confusing words, there was some positivity to be found in them, something they all took in stride. "The words on your arm are the ingredient list to Cheez-Its," Jemma told her breathlessly two days after the anticlimactic reveal, sprinting up to catch up with her friend one day after school. "Bobbi and I figured it out -- the monosodium glutamate, the thiamin mononitrate -- both of those are part of the preservatives and makeup of Cheez-Its. White cheddar Cheez-Its, in fact," she beamed, holding up a box and popping a few crackers into her mouth. "They're not all that bad." 

Cheez-Its.  _ Cheez-Its. _ Who would be reading her the ingredients list to  _ Cheez-Its _ ? "Thanks, Jem," Daisy said, because she  _ was _ thankful -- thankful that she'd been surrounded with friends who'd taken the time to scour lists upon lists, searching for the one combination that would bring her closer to her soulmate -- and it was always worth it to watch Jemma beam. "I'll swing by your place later? Mom wants to make bread with me today, and if I make pasta like I do bread, then we're going to have a shitton of extras." 

Melinda had been the second biggest interest in Daisy's words. Obviously, an ingredient list meant that Daisy's soulmate would have either a career in food or a dedicated interest in it, and seeing that there were only a few short months before she was shipping her daughter across the country to New York University, she was going to take as much of that time as she could to jam as many home-cooked recipes into her daughter's head as possible. Never mind that both of them combined tended to result in Phil placing a well-rehearsed call for pizza (it was a little embarrassing, frankly, how well the folks at Carter's Pizza knew their order), she was determined that said lessons would aid Daisy in her search for her soulmate. 

"Phil, can you call Carter's?" Melinda yelled, her request locked in a fierce battle with the smoke detector. "The oven's on fire again." Sighing, Phil held up his phone in acknowledgement and exited the house just as Daisy rushed in with their trusty fire extinguisher, covering the oven with foamy bubbles for what seemed like the third time in a week. "I don't know what we did wrong," she said once both women were standing among the remains. "I genuinely don't know what we did wrong." 

Perhaps it wasn't so much of a surprise, then, that Daisy chose to major in mass media and communications. "It's the major of takeout and fast food," Mack joked when she'd announced it at lunch one day. "Maybe your soulmate's going to try to convince you to stop eating white cheddar Cheez-Its because they're junk food." 

Yet even as the brunette struggled to create anything beyond pasta, her tendency to capture food in its final products didn't go unnoticed; what had started as a mock photoshoot for one of Phil's legendary Thanksgiving dinner spreads quickly turned into a semi-active Instagram account styling her takeout and other college staples as well as fully-staffed shoots of the meals produced by NYU's dining program. Daisy's four years within the hectic pace of Greenwich Village would find her staggering from bed to class, then to photoshoots and meetings before either hunkering down for the night in the library or partying harder than even the most dedicated party school student. There was no in-between. 

It was an exhausting life, and there'd been points where she considered walking away from it all to simply pursue her degree. But then a friend would show her the most delicately crafted drinks at a dive bar in SoHo, or the gleam of a bowl of ravioli would catch her eye in Midtown, and suddenly, the itch to visualize, to organize, to  _ create _ would return. 

And when she strutted across the stage at the end of it all while Phil and Melinda cheered themselves hoarse in the audience? Well, that was a whole different rush all in itself.

* * *

_ "You're kidding." _

"Honestly, I can't believe it's real, either." Melinda's face seemed to be stuck in the shocked position as she attempted to process the weight of the bombshell Daisy had just dropped on her. It was, alas, to no avail, and the normally unflappable mother needed to take a second to recover. "How did the SHIELD Test Kitchen even  _ hear _ of me?" 

Daisy'd started watching the SHIELD Test Kitchen during a boring afternoon on her winter break, the quirks and banters between each of its personalities more than enough to keep her occupied through the days until she could go back to school. After being caught one too many times marathoning the Test Kitchen's videos, both Melinda and Phil were avid co-watchers, and it was often that the three of them could be found squished together on the couch to view the latest. 

Even her styling account (@diningwithdaisy) paid homage to SHIELD now and again, and occasionally featuring the successful attempts at the team's dishes. There was a...modest following. She wouldn't call herself a celebrity by any means, but she was able to say her dishes had been featured in a few stories now and again. That still didn't mean she understood how she'd gotten to staring an interview offer with SHIELD management for a position as an Associate Video Editor. 

She hadn't even finished the application for the magazine, casting it aside with a doubtful snort. There was absolutely no way they would hire a fresh college grad, not even someone with an extensive resume like hers. Daisy didn't  _ think _ she'd unconsciously finished it and submitted it. Unless... "Dad??" echoed across the house, and Phil poked his head in as if Daisy'd just asked what was for dinner rather than opened her inbox to life-changing information. "Did you submit my application to SHIELD  _ for me _ ?" 

"It was almost done!" he exclaimed defensively, and she just stared at him, unsure if she should hug him for his audacity or refuse to speak to him ever again. "You just had the demographic questions left, honey, and they were so easy to answer." On one hand, a job at SHIELD would be everything she wanted and more. But on the other hand, it also meant moving away from the comfort of the only family she'd ever known and into the unforgiving jaws of New York City's publishing scene. Attending school there was one thing; eking out a living there was another. "And they want you for an interview, isn't that a good thing?"

It was good. But it also meant launching herself into adulting when she'd barely just figured out how to function as a person. Still, two weeks later found Daisy in a navy-and-white-striped button-up (courtesy of her mother), animatedly gesturing while she gushed about the experiences she'd had tasting at various restaurants around the city. Such was her passion that her voice carried down the stairs and into the dining room, where Phil perused the morning paper and Melinda waited for a cup of tea to steep. 

"We raised a good egg," he said, and for once, she didn't playfully scoff, didn't roll her eyes or contest the claim. Because the truth was, they had, and he knew it. 

"We did," was all she replied, and the comfortable silence that followed it spoke far more volumes than any monologue of Melinda's could have. "I was thinking I'd try to make something for Daisy tonight. Congratulate her for landing the interview." 

Phil just turned a page of the paper. "Should I pre-order the spread from Carter's?"

* * *

As much as she'd seen the Test Kitchen team on the internet, Daisy was wholly unprepared for how  _ gruelling _ the process was actually behind the scenes. Apparently, being hired as an Associate Food/Video Editor for the SHIELD Test Kitchen meant countless hours of produce hunting, restaurant research, utensil placement, even providing editing notes on the fly while the film crew swarmed the kitchen on shoots. 

It was like being in college again, flitting from prep to production to post-prod in an endless cycle of activity. Daisy would start her days cursing out the MTA, hop into the day's task list,  _ maybe _ break for lunch if they weren't in the middle of filming, and stare at the same footage for hours on end before crowding with approximately 60 other people onto the local 6 and collapsing into bed. Social lives outside of the Test Kitchen were somewhat of a nonexistent entity, so despite the cloying stench of inferiority she was sure clung to her throughout the day, she tried her best to make friends with both the talent  _ and _ crew. 

She needn't have worried, she told Phil and Melinda over FaceTime one blessedly free afternoon. The Test Kitchen staff had been ready to adopt her as one of their own as soon as she'd walked into the building.

Antoine Triplett had been the first to warm up to Daisy, quite literally greeting her with a hug as soon as he began to recognize her presence on sets. "What's crack-a-lackin', Dais?" he'd always ask, trading an elaborate handshake with her whenever he walked in. It was fitting, really, that he'd been one of her first friends -- his show,  _ Trip Around the World _ had been her first favorite when she'd begun watching the Test Kitchen; fascinated by the variety of foods he always seemed to unearth around New York City, each week's release had been followed by Daisy hopping on the next train to taste it. "It's a little funky, having a fan of ours be one of the editors," he told her with a bemused smile when she disclosed the extent of her fandom, "but it's nice to know our efforts aren't going right into the void." 

Elena Rodriguez had been next, and true to her show title  _ Everyday With Elena _ , the woman spared no time for small talk or formalities. She'd truly been the one to teach Daisy to stay on her toes solely through her shooting style, often sending her out for last-minute groceries or completely changing the prep setup in the name of authenticity. 

"Not everyone has access to the same equipment we have here in the Test Kitchen," she murmured one day to Daisy, who'd shown up to the shoot ten minutes late and drenched in sweat after being directed to go get fishballs from the nearest Chinese supermarket. "What you see here is the culmination of a lot of privilege. And no matter how much work you put in to get here, there are always going to be people who don't think you deserve to be." She cast Daisy a long look, the bare hint of a smile lurking in it reminding the younger brunette of her mother's expressions. "You're good at what you do, Daisy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But I want to make sure you can keep up so they've never got a reason to." 

_ "Elena Rodriguez scares me," _ Daisy shuddered to her mother later that night.  _ "Like, she's such a mom on her show, and she is in real life, too! But she's...she's intense. I think you two'd get along." _

Lance Hunter and Leo Fitz would turn out to be the little brothers she'd never had, the former introducing himself with the loudest and most boisterous handshake known to man and the former with an apologetic grimace on his behalf. It was their show prep she hated and enjoyed the most, respectively:  _ Hunting With Hunter _ often required piles of paperwork in the forms of equipment requests and travel expenses on top of her usual food prep, not to mention that the casual spontaneity Hunter tended to have on shoots often led to exponentially more paperwork being created; on the contrary,  _ Fitz's Firsts _ required only making sure each of the gadgets he would use during the shoot were available and sourcing enough produce to carry it out. 

She took in Raina Flowers the same as the rest of the Test Kitchen did -- with general warmth and cordiality but not surprise when her presence remained rare. "Raina keeps to herself a lot," Trip explained one night during an influencer event. "The only one she'll come out of her shell for, really, is Hunter, and even their back-and-forths I'd call a shaky friendship." Still, there was no denying that prep for  _ Food and Flora _ was one of the most fascinating, and even while she was struggling to make her deadlines, Daisy found herself learning something new every week. 

With all of the new friendships and sudden job responsibilities, the search for her soulmate was paused, put on the back burner while she adjusted to her biggest life change to date. It was easy to forget the block text on her arm when most of her days were spent wearing either sleeves or a jacket, and it wasn't until Jemma brought it up during one of her visits to New York that Daisy's brain clicked:  _ she worked at the Test Kitchen _ . The chances of someone reading out an ingredient list were higher than ever.

* * *

She didn't meet Daniel Sousa until almost two months into her job at SHIELD. 

Granted, she'd  _ heard _ of him -- a chef with a show as wildly successful as  _ Daniel's Duplicates _ was bound to be part of her show rotation during her early Test Kitchen consumption days -- but had yet to meet the man considered a culinary legend. (Which was, as Bobbi liked to remind her, probably a good thing, considering Daisy's longstanding crush on the man. Had she met him upon first being integrated into SHIELD, she probably would've fainted on the spot. It wasn't something Daisy denied, but it wasn't something she would proudly admit, either.) 

There was just something about him -- maybe it was his patience with all of his recipes, maybe it was the stare into the camera he did that felt like he was staring into the very depths of her soul, maybe it was his offhanded sense of humor that jumped in at the most unexpected of times -- that had captivated Daisy from the very beginning, even before Trip's show. In the beginning, perhaps it'd been about seeing a chef so humanized and humbled by their mistakes, but by the time she'd graduated college, she would eagerly await each new episode of  _ Duplicates _ , each week like being in a conversation with a close friend. She was convinced that was just the way Daniel Sousa  _ was _ : steadily warm and inviting to even those he didn't know.

Sousa had happened to be in between contracts with the Test Kitchen when she'd initially started, but now that he was beginning another one,  _ Daniel's Duplicates _ was added to her already-busy daily docket, and her produce runs now would include everything from marigolds to bison meat to bags upon bags of Combos. But it was worth it, really, because it meant at least once a week, she would get to watch Daniel Sousa attempt to duplicate a highly processed food with mixed but always entertaining results. 

Had she thought about it more, she probably would've put two and two together on that a large part of  _ Duplicates _ was reading ingredient lists. And that an upcoming episode on the show's docket was Cheez-Its. But as it was, a lot of Daisy's concentration during Sousa's shoots went to maintaining her composure, nevermind allotting additional brainpower to considering the idea that he might be her soulmate. 

"Sit still, for the love of God," Sousa could be heard muttering as she sailed onto set one morning, followed by the  _ clack _ that could only mean his cane had fallen to the floor again. It was a Test Kitchen secret as to how he'd gotten it, and there would always be a different answer depending on who you asked. "Swear I need to put in a request for a cane stand someday." Smiling to herself, Daisy took a seat at the left camera and began setting its angles -- thankfully, she was only required to run camera for this episode, as Sousa's preferred director, Piper, was in.

"Daisy, good news and bad news," Piper called as she was squinting into the lens, trying to get the focus just right on the mountain of Cheez-It boxes she'd stacked the night before. Damn lettering. "Which one you want first?" 

"Give me the bad news." Melinda had always taught her to take the bad news first -- it meant that the following good news would always lift it, even if just by a fraction. 

"Bad news is Davis needs to go pick up his kid from daycare, he's puking all over the place." Daisy winced -- the poor man. "I have to go shoot for Hunter today." Part of her was relieved Piper wasn't sending her to direct for Hunter, to be honest -- it took a special kind of mental preparation to deal with the meats Hunter had chosen sometimes. "Good news is you get to direct Sousa!" How was that  _ good _ news? It was well known to the entire crew that Daisy Johnson had a massive crush on Daniel Sousa; if she somehow flubbed this opportunity up, she'd never live it down. 

Shooting for Hunter didn't seem so bad, now.

"Daniel, Daisy's our newest video editor, but I'm sure you've seen her on a couple of our shoots," Piper said, and Daisy gave him a sheepish wave when he looked over in surprise. "She'll be directing today. I taught her everything she needs to know, so don't give her any shit, yeah?" The last sentence was said with a cheeky grin, and she briefly caught Sousa flipping Piper the bird before the latter was skipping off of set. 

Professional. All she had to do was be professional for one episode, and she would be fine.  _ Deep breaths, Johnson, _ she reminded herself as she took a seat at the main camera.  _ Deep breaths _ . "Marker," she called, snapping the clapboard, turning to the monitor just as Sousa lifted a box of Cheez-Its and began to read the ingredients. 

"Enriched flour (wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, vitamin b1 [thiamin mononitrate], vitamin b2 [riboflavin], folic acid)..." As soon as he began, the words on Daisy's arm began to tingle. She paid it no mind at first, chalking it up to perhaps a fly in the kitchen or a particularly strong AC current. "...vegetable oil (soybean and palm oil with TBHQ for freshness), white cheddar cheese (milk, cheese cultures, salt, enzymes). contains 2% or less of salt, whey, cheddar cheese (milk, cheese cultures, salt, enzymes), monosodium glutamate..." 

_ "Thiamin mononitrate?" "Monosodium glutamate?" "White cheddar cheese?" _ The confused proclamations of a younger Bobbi, Jemma and Mack rang in her ears as if she was underwater, and suddenly, Daisy couldn't hear anything except for the thumping in her ears and a prominent tingling on her left forearm. "...whey protein concentrate, butter (cream, salt) baking soda, yeast, natural and artificial flavor, lactic acid, calcium lactate, disodium phosphate, citric acid, turmeric extract color, annatto extract color and soy lecithin." Without noticing, Sousa had finished his reading, looking up only to see Daisy staring mindlessly off into space. "Daisy?" When Daisy didn't respond, he tried again. "Daisy. Daisy? Daisy!" 

The last one brought Daisy out of her reverie with an audible gasp, and it was with a hammering heart that she noticed the camera was still recording. "Wait, wait, wait, say all that again?" she asked, cutting the video. "I -- I got the footage, and it's fine, it's just -- can you say all that again?" For her sanity, too, she wanted to add, but it didn't feel appropriate for someone he'd essentially just met. "And, uh, is there any chance you could go slowly?" There was no way Daniel Sousa could be her soulmate. There was  _ no _ way. Karma didn't work like that. 

"Enriched flour, wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, vitamin b1 [thiamin mononitrate]," Each word was like a little  _ ding _ to Daisy's forearm, and she raised her forearm in awe as she slowly followed along with the list. "vitamin b2 [riboflavin], folic acid, vegetable oil (soybean and palm oil with TBHQ for freshness), white cheddar cheese...is there a reason for this?" Sousa asked, setting down the box. He knew the video editor was new, but not  _ this _ new. "We're not even filming." Mutely, Daisy held up her forearm, watching Daniel squint as he struggled to make out the words imprinted on it. "...oh." 

"Yeah." Then, as if she couldn't sabotage her day any further: "Is it a bad time to admit that I've had a crush on you for like, a year and a half?" 

"Not the weirdest thing I've ever heard," he admitted. "Is it a bad time to admit that I thought you were gorgeous as soon as you walked into the room?" Chuckling, he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a singular word printed onto his forearm in stark black lettering. 'Marker'. "I've had it said to me so many times I gave up on trying to figure out who was my soulmate," was his sheepish explanation, while Daisy was still fighting to get rid of the blush on her cheeks. "I believe the question is, where do we go from here?" 

"Well," Daisy said, still trying to process the fact that  _ Daniel Sousa _ was her soulmate. Karma did work like that, apparently. "we still have to shoot the video. Piper would have my ass if I didn't finish it." She'd probably be fired if she skived off a whole video, soulmate to one of their Test Kitchen talents or not. "Then I suppose what you want to do is up to you...Daniel." Oh, god, that felt weird. She wanted to scrub her tongue as soon as she said it. 

Still, hazel met cocoa in a winning grin, one that had butterflies immediately taking flight in Daisy's stomach. "How's dinner sound?" Sousa asked, and was she nodding like a goofy schoolgirl? Probably. But she couldn't find it in herself to care. Everything she'd ever thought about the viral video star was right, and she couldn't have been more proud. "We could probably convince Trip or Elena to whip us up something before they left." 

They would, Daisy was sure, but not without giving her hell first. "I know a place," she suggested instead, and she wanted to laugh at how fast Sousa's eyebrows shot past the expanse of his forehead. In hindsight, her phrasing  _ had _ been pretty suggestive, but whether it be the extensive viewing of his show or simple soulmate instinct, she chose better than to press him into that sort of territory, especially after just meeting. "An actual place. Have you been to Gnoccheria by Luzzo's?" 

His eyebrows stayed high, even as the grin widened. "I haven't," he said, and the butterflies dispersed, replaced by a pleasant warmth that took nest in her lower belly. "Sooner we shoot, sooner you can tell me all about it." 

When Piper walked back onto set some five hours later, frazzled and smelling strongly of garlic, she'd expected to find Daisy faltering somewhat behind the camera and Sousa patiently coaching her through the steps. It wasn't that she doubted the new editor -- everyone had jitters their first time behind the main camera. Instead, she found Daisy directing with polish and ease, the camera crew taking her directions without complaint. Even more baffling was the fact that director and talent seemed to be trading jokes like old friends -- it'd taken Piper three weeks as Sousa's director for him to even warm up to her. Which meant there was something else at play...it couldn't be. 

The camera crew had always teased Sousa for his nondescript soulmate words, joking that he'd been destined to be all of their soulmates rather than tied to just one. Had he finally found his match in Daisy Johnson? "Wow, we're looking sharp here," she commented, and it was like she'd popped the bubble that'd existed between Daisy and Sousa. "How's your first time behind the camera going, Johnson?" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sousa draw in a sharp breath of recognizance, mouthing Daisy's last name as if it was a newly-discovered word. "See you and Sousa are getting along pretty well." 

"Marker," was all Sousa said at the same time Daisy answered, "White cheddar cheese Cheez-It ingredients." The look they shared was enough to demonstrate to Piper that yeah, they were definitely each other's soulmates. "I know it's a lot to ask, Pipes, but do you think that we could..." 

_ "Go," _ Piper laughed, and you'd never seen two people happier to get off of a shoot. Sousa immediately began cleaning his station with fervor while Daisy shut down the setup at record speed, much to the crew's delight. It wasn't long before the both of them were raring to go, the latter hauling her bag over her shoulder with a warm smile. 

"If I may," Daisy said, offering her hand. "Our gnocchi awaits." His hand slipped into hers, and the smile he gave her spoke of eternal promises both now and in the future. It was a smile of someone having finally found their other half, and while he wasn't sure what the coming years would bring, he could be sure of who he'd spend them with.

As long as they had each other, they'd be just fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If there's something you'd like to see, I'm taking prompts from [this](https://justanalto.tumblr.com/post/622842304685834240/300-prompts) and [this](https://justanalto.tumblr.com/post/623191689172058112/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a) list!


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